


santa cutie, fill my stocking with—

by oh_fudgecakes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Christmas Fluff, First Christmas, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Nude Photos, Surprise Party, Victor Nikiforov is Extra, very extra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 19:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17230046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_fudgecakes/pseuds/oh_fudgecakes
Summary: In which Viktor desperately tries to put together theperfectsurprise Christmas party for Yuuri, under the impression that Yuuri wants to celebrate Christmas due to their conversation at the Christmas market in Barcelona. Hilarity soon ensues. Yurio reluctantly gets involved. In the end, everybody is surprised.Written for the Victuri Gift Exchange. The prompt was: Christmas-themed domestic one-shot from Yuuri or Viktor's POV with some angsty flashbacks but a happy ending.





	santa cutie, fill my stocking with—

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Watery_silver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watery_silver/gifts).



> Written for the Victuri Gift Exchange. I was unable to complete this fic before the deadline, and am thus posting it separate from the exchange. Thank you [SnarkyBreeze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnarkyBreeze/pseuds/SnarkyBreeze) for betaing. Merry Vikmas everyone!

****There is nothing else quite like coming home to December in St. Petersburg.

The window fogs up as he presses his cheek against it with a gasp. Even through the condensation, however, he’d recognize the sight of a white St. Petersburg anywhere. He’s home. He’s _finally_ home. It’s felt like months, even though he _knows_ it’s only been a week.

Someone taps him on the shoulder, and he pulls his headphones off.

“Sir,” the air stewardess whispers, “Please fasten your seatbelt. We are about to begin the descent.”

He is more than happy to comply.

  


His luggage clicks sharply over each tile as he hurries down towards the arrival hall. Through the glass, he sees someone jump up from the benches. Yuuri is a little smarter than he had been the last time they were separated, and has picked a seat right by the door. A brown poodle puts her paws up against the wall separating them.

Viktor speeds up and then gives up on maintaining his composure completely, breaking into a run. Yuuri stops right outside the doors, flushed and smiling, and holds his arms out wide. And God, does running into them feel like home.

“Viktor,” Yuuri laughs, as Viktor bends his head to plaster kisses all over his cheek and temple, “You were only gone for five days.”

“It was five days too long,” Viktor huffs.

Yuuri turns his head, chuckling, and kisses him firmly on the lips. It’s a quick, chaste kiss. Yuuri leans back to look at Viktor after that, eyes gleaming.

“I watched you,” Yuuri whispers, “God, you were amazing.”

Viktor has never been shy about compliments, but he has to duck his head this time. “I missed the gold,” he protests, “I’ve been national champion for eleven years, Yuuri. _Eleven years_ . I’m just glad it was Yurio who took my title and not— I don’t know, some young upstart I don’t recognize. I popped a quad and stepped out of the flip— _the flip._ My own signature move, and I couldn’t even land it.”

“You’ve only been back in competition for _less than a month,_ Viktor,” Yuuri reminds him, and then smiles, cheekily, “It’s _crazy_ that you’re still able to do what you do, given how many bowls of katsudon you ate while we were in Japan.”

Viktor screeches as Yuuri reaches under his sweater and grabs his stomach with cold, _cold_ hands. Yuuri bursts out laughing but quiets as he notices the people who have turned to look at them. He leans up to whisper in Viktor’s ear.

“We should get out of here.”

He takes Viktor’s hand and begins to pull him firmly out of the terminal. The winter chill hits Viktor hard as they step out of the airport together, but he still finds himself smiling uncontrollably the whole way to the carpark.

The cold can’t reach him when he has Yuuri’s hand in his.

  


A quiet creak wakes him that night, and he opens his eyes to see Yuuri at the bedroom door. A fond feeling swells in his chest at the sight of his fiancé. He’s just about to call out to Yuuri when Yuuri turns his head — and Viktor falls abruptly silent.

In the light from the open door, Yuuri’s brow is furrowed, his mouth turned into a deep frown. He’s biting his lip, looking down at his phone, scrolling down some kind of webpage. He looks up after a pause and turns to look back at Viktor.

Viktor shuts his eyes tight.

His heart hammers in his ears as he lays there in the dark, holding perfectly still.

After a few long moments, the door creaks quietly closed. Viktor immediately opens his eyes and sits up. Flipping the covers away from his legs, he creeps towards the door on quiet feet and opens the door a crack.

Yuuri is sitting alone at the counter, staring down at his phone. With a sigh, he puts the phone down and pushes it away from him.

“Why is _everything_ Christmas-themed?” he groans, standing up.

Viktor rocks back, pulling the door shut, and then rushes back to the bed. He jumps back under the covers and yanks the comforter over his head. A few seconds in, however, he realizes that Yuuri isn’t coming back into the room.

He emerges slowly from under the duvet.

Why is everything _Christmas-themed?_

He lays there for a few seconds more, but that single sentence still makes no more sense to him than it had when Yuuri had first uttered it. With a groan, he pinches the bridge of his nose. God, what does it even _mean?_ Christmas. Okay. Christmas. Think. Why would Yuuri be upset about Christmas? Christmas. Christ—

He shoots upright.

Why _else_ would everything be Christmas-themed?

“God,” he whispers, slapping his forehead, “I’m an idiot.”

He snatches his phone off the nightstand. The screen comes alight, and lo and behold, the date stares damningly back at him.

23 December.

The pieces start to come together now. He recalls the conversation they’d had at the Christmas market in Barcelona, the way Yuuri’s face had fallen when Viktor said that he didn’t really celebrate Christmas. Back then, he had thought it was Yuuri taking it as a rejection, in light of their stupid, _stupid_ argument about the nuts. Now, however, it makes sense.

Yuuri celebrates Christmas.

God, he’d just— He’d assumed Yuuri didn’t, without even asking. He’d been told that _most_ of Japan did not celebrate Christmas, but he knows that there must be _some_ who do. He had just never thought to ask if _Yuuri_ celebrates Christmas. In retrospect, that just makes him sound like an asshole. Raising his phone to his face, he knocks his forehead against it a few times.

Okay, so he knows that those who celebrate Christmas in Russia celebrate in January— but he also knows from Chris that Christmas elsewhere is very different from in Russia. He sighs. The thing is, he just doesn’t know a lot about Christmas. He’s never celebrated it. He knows that Christmas is usually a family holiday, but that’s about it.

Wait.

Oh _god._

He knocks his head against his phone a few more times. Christmas is a _family holiday._ Alone in a foreign country, away from his family— Viktor himself has never had family, but Yuuri must be feeling so isolated and homesick. Viktor knows all too well what it’s like to pass important holidays alone. He never wants Yuuri to feel that way. _Ever._

He needs to make this up to Yuuri somehow. Tomorrow he’ll—

Crap.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.

He closes his eyes. Somehow, something doesn’t quite sit right about the idea of waking up tomorrow, and wishing Yuuri a Merry Christmas Eve like— like some kind of _afterthought._ No. No, this needs to be special. Viktor doesn’t celebrate Christmas, but _Yuuri_ does, and Viktor does _not_ do things by halves. This is Yuuri’s first Christmas in St. Petersburg, and Viktor is going to make it _perfect._

Determined, he clutches at the comforter, staring up at the dark ceiling as he silently mulls over the issue. Viktor knows one sure way of making things special. One could even say that this is his specialty, what he does best.

He is going to give Yuuri the _best Christmas surprise ever._

  


As he sits down to plan the next day, he is reminded again that he has never celebrated Christmas and is not even sure how to go about doing this. He really doesn't want to fuck his and Yuuri’s first Christmas up, however, and that's how he finds himself sitting at the table, scrolling down the Christmas Wikipedia page on his phone.

There’s honestly a lot to take in.

He looks down at the notepad by his left. He's written down a checklist of things he will need. The page is split into three columns right now: food, decorations, and presents. He knows from a quick text conversation with Chris that these seem to be the three most important aspects of Christmas.

But where does he even _start?_ He looks blankly at the Wikipedia page again before turning back to his checklist. He supposes he can start by considering the list of items under the first column. He already has a number of items listed out for food, but on that list, the only item he actually has at home is wine. He crosses wine out. He will have to shop for the others. 

> Food

  * Turkey
  * Pudding
  * Cake
  * ~~Wine~~
  * Eggnog



He taps his pencil against his chin a few times. It really seems like it might be too much to eat for two, doesn’t it? Do they really need _two_ desserts and _two_ beverages? After giving it some thought, he erases pudding and eggnog.

Alright. Next, _decorations._ What kind of decorations will he need to buy?

There is, of course, the tree. He writes that down. He will also need decorations for the tree. He knows that much from movies. There are fairy lights stashed somewhere that he can probably use, but they will still need baubles. He notes baubles down. Now, what else does he need?  Aside from the tree, he should probably put up some hangings up and other accessories around the living room, shouldn’t he?

He considers that for a few moments, tapping his chin, before he looks back at the Wikipedia page. He scrolls down, and lights up.

Perfect! There is a subsection on decorations!

At the very beginning of the section, there is a very large picture of someone’s Christmas decorations, but... He frowns, and leans in to look at the picture.

  


A typical Neapolitan _presepe_ or _presepio_ , or Nativity scene. Local crèches are renowned for their ornate decorations and symbolic figurines, often mirroring daily life. 

… but he's not really sure _what_ the figures are doing, and what they are supposed to represent. The caption informs him that this is a “Nativity scene”. He sighs. Well, he doesn’t know what a Nativity scene is, but he’ll just add it to the list first. He underlines it with two bold strokes and then looks at the painfully short list again. Right. He’ll need to do more research later, but for now, he’ll just move on. 

> Decorations

  * Tree
  * ~~Lights~~
  * Baubles
  * Nativity (??)



Now for the last one. Presents.

 He stops there.

What on _earth_ should he get Yuuri?

He thinks about it for awhile longer, idly doodling Makkachin wearing a Santa hat in the margin of his notepad, before he sighs. This is possibly the most important of all the things he’ll be preparing. He definitely needs a second opinion on this. He picks up his phone, swiping away from Wikipedia, and opens his messages.

 **Chrissss  
** **What should I get Yuuri for Christmas**

After a short moment, Chris begins to type. A few seconds in, however, the typing bubble abruptly disappears. Viktor frowns. When it does not come back, he puts his phone down with a sigh. Maybe Chris is busy.

A buzz.

He snatches his phone up to see that Chris has replied.

**He seems hard to shop for**

He _is_ hard to shop for.

 **He’s very practical,** Viktor agrees.  
**He doesn’t buy much beyond what he needs  
** **He doesn’t really splurge or indulge**

This time, Chris answers immediately.

 **LOL  
** **Doesn’t splurge?  
****Have you seen his collection?**  

 _Collection?_ Viktor frowns, and tries to think of anything that Yuuri collects. Nothing comes to mind.

**What collection?**

There is a few seconds’ pause, before Chris begins to type again.

 **Okay forget about the collection  
** **Pretend I didn’t say anything  
****But I know EXACTLY what you should get him**  

Right then, a loud click comes from the front door.

_Oh god._

Viktor jumps up, grabbing his notepad. 

There’s a dull thud as Yuuri tries to yank the door open from the outside. Viktor can hear his muffled curse through the door. Viktor skids around the couch, nearly slipping in his socks, and then falls to his knees by the coffee table. Makkachin perks up from where she had been napping as he tucks the notepad under the rug. The door clicks a second time. He gets up and throws himself on the couch just as the door opens.

Makkachin immediately uncurls and trots around the couch to Yuuri. Viktor lays there, corpse still, as Yuuri chuckles. “Hello, beautiful,” he whispers, “Now, where did your daddy go?”

Viktor pops upright with a smile.

“I’m here!” he chirps, “I was just napping on the couch!”

Yuuri _jumps._

“Oh my _god_ , you scared me, Viktor,” he gasps, but laughs after a moment, leaving his keys on the table as he walks off into the kitchen. “Nevermind, just come help me with the groceries. I bought something for dinner I think you’ll _really_ like.”

Viktor gets up and trots over obediently. Yuuri looks up as Viktor steps into the kitchen, blinking a few times, and then chuckles, shaking his head fondly as he sets the bags down on the counter. “I’ll never understand how you can fall asleep in _skinny jeans,_ Viktor,” he says, before stepping close to give him a kiss.

 _Crap._ Viktor laughs nervously as Yuuri steps back to put away the groceries.

“You know me,” he says, “I’ll sleep in anything. Sleeping, that’s what I do best!”

Yuuri stops in the act of opening the fridge and turns to look back at him.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright, Viktor?” he asks, bewildered. “You’re… a little off today, and you’re all flushed too.”

He comes over and puts a hand on Viktor’s forehead. “No temperature,” he observes. “Do you want to rest awhile before lunch anyway, love?”

“Yes,” Viktor manages. “I’ll just… go do that.”

After another quick kiss, he walks as quickly as he can into the bedroom, and throws himself under the covers. He pulls a pillow over his head.

God, someone _bury him now._

He manages to master his embarrassment after a few moments, and pulls his phone out of his back pocket. It unlocks to his conversation with Chris. His eyes widen as he catches up on the unread messages, face warming.

Well, it’s not a bad idea.

He’ll need to wait until Yuuri is out of the house tomorrow, but it’s _perfectly_ doable in the time he has left. He types out a quick reply.

 **Thanks Chris  
****I owe you one**  

Once that’s done, he tiptoes out into the living room, takes his notepad out from under the rug, and slips back into the bedroom. It’ll be suspicious if he disappears for the whole day, but same-day domestic shipping exists for a reason. He sits on the bed and opens up his phone’s browser.

He has some Christmas shopping to do.

  


The first parcel arrives just after dinner. 

Viktor sprints out of the bathroom at the first ring of the doorbell, shirtless, skidding and nearly falling in front of Yuuri to receive the parcel before he does. He tips the delivery-person extra — same day deliveries are tough — but when he turns around, Yuuri is still standing behind him, eyebrow raised.

Makkachin is sitting at his feet, somehow wearing an equally puzzled look.

“It’s for Chris,” Viktor blurts, “It’s _very_ racy.”

Yuuri tilts his head.

“And I have never, in my life, seen anything racy.”

Viktor winces.

“Very, _very_ racy,” he corrects, and begins to back slowly into the bedroom, “Nasty stuff. I’ll go put it somewhere that you don’t have to see.”

Yuuri sighs, but in the end, he just shakes his head fondly.

“Alright, Viktor,” he calls from the door, beginning to toe his shoes on, “I’m going to walk Makka now. I’ll just leave you with your _very racy_ parcel.”

The door closes.

Viktor turns and collapses melodramatically on the bed, groaning. He used to be so good at this. God. Viktor dearly misses his composure.

  


Yuuri comes back in some two or so hours, Makkachin jumping and barking at his heels. “Oh come now, Makka,” he teases, locking the door behind him, “Quiet down, girl.”

He turns around — and stops there in the entrance.

They stare at each other for a very long time.

“Viktor,” Yuuri finally says, staring blankly over Viktor’s shoulder, “What did you buy, _how many of them_ did you buy, and _why_ have you draped the rug over your parcels?”

A box falls from the tall pile behind him. Viktor whips around and manages to catch it before it can hit the floor. He puts it back on top of the pile, clearing his throat, and discreetly rearranges the rug in a vain attempt to hide it better.

The rug, he reflects awkwardly, had worked better when it had _just_ been the notepad.

“I think Chris may be opening up a sex shop?” he offers weakly.

There’s a few seconds of silence.

“Okay,” Yuuri says, “I’m just going to take a shower and— pretend I didn’t see these then.”

Unclipping Makka’s leash, he hangs it up and vanishes into the bedroom.

  


The very last parcel comes just as they are settling in for the night. Yuuri does not even attempt to get up at the sound of the doorbell.

Viktor pecks him once on the lips before rushing out of the bedroom door. He signs off on the parcel and tips the delivery-person. After the delivery-person has left, he checks the label on the box. The baubles! He retrieves the notepad from under the rug and checks off it off.

Good, he has everything now.

He puts the notepad and baubles on top of the pile, pulls the rug over it, and heads back into the bedroom. He's arranged for Yuuri to have a private session with Lilia for the first half of tomorrow so that he can set things up. For some reason, however, Yuuri had seemed a little reluctant at first, even though he had eventually acquiesced. Yuuri _loves_ Lilia and Lilia _loves_ Yuuri, so he’s not sure what that was.

He slides back under the cover and cuddles happily up against Yuuri. Yuuri drapes an arm around him. Mm, it’s warm and cosy now. Viktor’s eyes immediately begin to slide shut.

“Had a long day?” Yuuri teases, and laughs, “God, you’re such a dork. I love you.”

“Mmm. Promise it’ll be worth it.”

Somewhere along the way, he’s given up on hiding that he has a surprise planned. It definitely helps that Yuuri hasn’t even come close to guessing what the surprise is, so it’s technically still a surprise. It’s actually a little strange, come to think of it. It’s Christmas Eve. Shouldn’t it be obvious what he’s doing?

A huge yawn overcomes him.

Damn. He’s _exhausted._

Sleep takes him before he can think too much about it.

  


When his alarm rings the next day, Yuuri has already gone.

In his place there is a note, with an _“I love you”,_ and a _“see you tonight”_ . Viktor’s heart swells at that, and he clutches the note to his chest, feeling stupidly like a sappy teenager again. He wonders if Yuuri’s notes will ever stop making him feel this way. He laughs. No. He _knows_ they will never stop making him feel this way.

Yuuri deserves _the world,_ and Viktor is going to make tonight perfect for him. Before Yuuri, the winters had always been the hardest. The cold had kept him confined in his apartment, and that had been when the loneliness was worst. With Yuuri here, however, winters are no longer cold. They are endlessly, endlessly warm, full of duvet days, hot chocolate, and the comfortable heat of Yuuri’s body against his.

There’s a whine before Makkachin hops up into the bed, nosing at his face.

“Oh, Makka,” he huffs, laughing, “I’m just getting a bit misty. They’re _happy_ tears. Don’t worry about me.”

He dries his cheeks and goes out into the living room, grinning from ear to ear now. If Makka is here, it means that Yuuri's definitely gone for the day, and isn’t just out walking Makka. The rug is still draped over the parcels, exactly the way he left it. Yuuri hasn’t peeked.

Viktor grabs a pair of scissors, sits down on the floor, and begins to open one of the bigger boxes. Christmas Day — he checks his phone briefly — and it’s 10 AM. He’s got this all planned out. He’s given himself about four hours to set the decorations up, and four hours to get dinner going. Yuuri will be back around seven. By the time he returns, everything should be ready.

He finally finishes tearing all the tape off the box.

Oh, perfect! It’s the tree!

  


Nearing midday, the doorbell rings while Viktor is... putting the finishing touches on Yuuri’s present. Viktor knows it can't be Yuuri, however. He should _definitely_ still be with Lilia. He puts his laptop aside, pulls on a bathrobe, and walks out to look through the peephole.

It’s Yurio.

That is really strange. What’s _Yurio_ doing here? He’s supposed to be at practice. Viktor opens the door a crack. “What are you _doing_ here?” he hisses, “Go to the rink!”

Yurio looks up from his phone.

“Oh, good, you’re here. Let me in.” Viktor tries to close the door, but somehow, Yurio gets a foot in before Viktor can slam it shut. “Nuh uh,” he growls, “I am _definitely_ coming in today.”

Viktor lets out a huff.

“Fine,” he grumbles, “Can you at least let me finish Yuuri’s present and put something on?”

Yurio frowns. “Put something _on?”_

Viktor takes advantage of Yurio’s moment of confusion to kick his foot out of the way, and then slams the door shut between them. As he’s hurrying back into the bedroom, however, he hears Yurio’s moment of realization through the door.

 _“Oh god! I literally did not need to know any of this! Why am I here?! Why?!”_ comes the anguished howl, and then a thud, like Yurio has punched the door. God, he’s such a melodramatic teen, and one with _such bad timing._

“Then go home!” Viktor shouts.

_“No!”_

With a sigh, Viktor pulls the bedroom door shut behind him. He has some editing to do before he can print Yuuri’s present — editing that _can’t_ be done with minors present, so Yurio is just going to have to go home, or _wait._

Yurio is still standing outside, texting furiously, when he emerges ten minutes later.

“You’re still here,” Viktor says, actually impressed.

“Yes, and I’ve been waiting for ten minutes!” Yurio cries irately, “Let me in!”

Viktor sighs, but lets Yurio in. He had been certain Yurio would choose to go home, and he’s feeling a little bad for making him wait outside now. The feeling dissipates very quickly as Yurio stops in his tracks, staring at the rest of the house with a slow, dawning horror.

“Viktor,” he whispers, “Why are there _giant dog statues_ all around your apartment?”

Image credit: [Paws2Heaven.com](http://www.paws2heaven.com/dog_angels.htm)

 

Viktor stops Yuri before he can take a picture. 

“No uploading photos online,” he hisses and closes the front door, “I’m trying to prepare a Christmas surprise for Yuuri.”

“And Christmas means _giant dog statues_ all over the house?” Yurio asks incredulously, “Why is there straw? Is this supposed to be a _barn?_ Viktor, where did you even get these?”

“I bought them online!” Viktor snaps, “Apparently, it’s common for people celebrating Christmas to put up Nativity scenes, which are like, religious statues set up in a barn scene, but—” he squirms, “I wasn’t sure putting religious figures up would be appropriate, because neither Yuuri nor I are Christian, so I just— bought the angels only.”

 _“Dog angels,”_ Yurio asks flatly.

Viktor puts his hands on his waist, scowling.

“Look,” he says crossly, “if you’re going to stay, you need to _help_ me. I’m supposed to finish up the decorations by two and start dinner but—” he checks his notepad, and sighs, “but I'm running a little behind schedule.”

Yurio groans.

“Alright,” he says, “Alright, I’ll help, but do you remember the last time you tried to cook something _fancy?”_

He makes little quotation marks with his fingers.

And Viktor freezes, because oh god, does he remember.

“It’s been a long time since then!” he protests shrilly. “Who knows, I might succeed this time!”

Even to him, however, his optimism rings false. Yurio softens with a little sigh. He comes over to read the list over Viktor’s shoulder.

“The main dish is turkey, right?” he asks. “We can get one of the ready-cooked ones. Let’s just get all this crap up on the walls, and then we can drive out and get a super fancy turkey. I know a really good store.”

Wow. He had not expected this, but Yurio is _actually_ being helpful.

“Come on,” Yurio grumbles. “We’re behind schedule.”

He picks up the box of baubles, and begins to put them up on the tree.

  


Somehow, with Yurio’s help, they manage to finish the decorations on time. Viktor is still slightly stunned about it all. Yurio had come in like some kind of small, angry hurricane. Everytime Viktor had stopped to hem or haw, wondering if he should hang it _this_ way or _that_ way, Yurio put his foot down and made a decision. Everytime Viktor had stepped back, frowning, and said “something doesn’t look quite right here”, Yurio had stepped in and fixed it back up.

He’s not used to Yurio being so… _helpful._

They take a long drive out, almost to the very fringes of St. Petersburg. Yurio sits in the front passenger seat, texting furiously, speaking only to give him directions. Viktor can’t help but wonder _what_ it is about this store that they are driving so far out for. When they eventually reach the store, however, he figures it out right away.

 _Damn,_ does it smell divine.

The moment they step in, he realizes that they are probably going to be here awhile. He tends to be indecisive over things like this and there are _so many turkeys._ He just can't decide which one to get! There's the the honey-glazed turkey, the black pepper turkey, the french slow-roast, the truffle turkey… god, there are just so many!

Behind him, Yuri is still texting. He’s been texting the whole ride. While he’s a big texter, this is a little more texting than usual.

“Who are you texting?” Viktor asks curiously.

“None of your business,” Yuri answers immediately, without even looking up from his phone. “Go pick a turkey, old man.”

Viktor rolls his eyes, but turns back to the display. There’s the apple-stuffed turkey, the oregano turkey, the—

“I can't decide!” he wails.

“Why don’t we go get the other things on your list first, and then come back later?”

Viktor sighs, but takes out his notepad. After Yurio finishes up his text, he comes closer to read it too. They just need to buy cake now.

“There’s a bakery nearby that does some pretty cool cakes,” Yurio tells him.

Viktor blinks, surprised. _“Yurio,”_ he says, “you’re being so helpful it’s actually freaking me out a little. What’s the matter with you today?”

Yurio startles. After a moment, he seems to collect himself because he scowls, turns away, and stalks off towards the door. “God!” he says loudly, once he’s reached the entrance. “There’s just no pleasing some people!” He pushes the door open, and steps out into the winter evening.

With a yelp, Viktor quickly hurries after him.

  


They take a short drive down to the bakery. It’s another small, quaint shop that smells amazing. There are all sorts of cakes out on display, but Viktor’s eyes are immediately drawn to the one with a skating boot, iced over a snowflake. He rubs his thumb over his engagement ring absently. The snowflake looks _especially_ like the one engraved on the inside of it. According to the label, it's chocolate sponge too— his and Yuuri’s favorite.

At that moment, however, Yurio leans over and points to another cake.

“This is what you're looking for,” he says shortly.

What?

Viktor bends down to read the label in front of it, frowning. It's—

“Christmas cake?” he reads, “What does that mean?”

Yurio shrugs. “It's a type of fruitcake that people traditionally eat during Christmas,” he explains. “I just assumed that’s what you were looking for when you wrote cake.”

“Yuuri hates fruitcake,” Viktor recalls unsurely. If it's tradition, though, then maybe— Viktor sighs. He wants to make this authentic as possible. He really, really doesn't want to fuck up Yuuri’s first Christmas in St. Petersburg. He wants this to be special. He wants this to be _perfect._

Right now, however, he’s not sure which cake will be the _perfect_ one.

Yurio seems to sense his anxiety, because he sighs. “Look,” he says. “This is a Christmas for the two of you, right? Why does it matter what _other_ people eat when they are celebrating _their_ Christmases? Buy something that both of you will enjoy, that both of you will find meaningful.”

That’s— _actually_ really sound advice.

Feeling more reassured, Viktor stretches up on his toes and smiles at the staff member who had been waiting behind the display.

“I’d like to have the chocolate sponge cake, please.”

  


Viktor finds himself babbling on the ride back.

Yurio has long stopped responding to him, realizing after the first five minutes that Viktor’s just running his mouth, but Viktor can’t _stop._ “What if I’ve done something wrong?” he’s babbling. “What if Yuuri hates the decorations? What if he thinks they’re too much? What if the statues are too much? What if—”

“Viktor,” Yurio cuts in, “you need to turn right.”

Without really thinking about it, he takes a right on the next turn.

“What if he wanted the fruitcake instead?” he continues. “What if he wants an _authentic_ Christmas? God, I can’t give him that. I don’t know anything about Christmas.”

“Turn right again.”

He turns right, this time into the carpark of his own apartment building. There’s an empty spot right by the entrance. He immediately begins reversing into it.

“What if—” and he has to take awhile to collect himself here, “What if _I’m_ just not enough? What if he still misses his family? I mean, I wouldn’t blame him. How can I really replace his family? Family’s really important. Heaven knows _I_ wouldn’t really understand because I don’t have family but—”

They get out of the car. Yurio shoves one of the bags into his arms, carrying the other.

“That’s the cake,” he warns, “Keep it upright.”

Viktor adjusts his grip accordingly.

“— but how could _I_ , how could _one person_ make up for a whole house full of people?” His throat tightens as they step into the lift. “I— I know what it's like, living alone in that cold grey apartment. It's very lonely. It’s very cold. But— I never want Yuuri to feel the way I did, passing holidays alone in that apartment, year after year. I want him to love this place. I want him to feel at home. I want him— I want him to feel _loved._ Good god, I need him to know just how much he’s _loved.”_

He chokes a little. Great, and now he’s losing his composure in front of Yurio. Clenching his eyes shut, he drapes his wrist over his eyes. Damn it, he needs to keep it together.

The lift dings and the doors open onto Viktor’s floor.

“You should know by now,” Yurio says suddenly, as they exit the lift, “With the Katsudon, it's always going to be enough, not because it’s correct or because it’s perfect — but because it’s _you.”_

Viktor can’t help but be taken aback by Yurio’s serious tone.

“How do you know?” he asks.

They come to a halt, right in front of Viktor’s door. Yurio closes his eyes with a sigh.

“God, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he whispers. Without opening his eyes, he points at the door. “Open the goddamn door, Viktor.”

Viktor blinks at the non-sequitur.

“What?”

_“Open it.”_

Still confused, Viktor complies anyway, turning to the door and fishing in his pocket for his key. He finds it after a short moment, and unlocks the gate. He pauses there, shooting Yurio another puzzled look, before he pushes it open.

_“Surprise!”_

He jumps at the sudden chorus of voices.

What in the _world?_

Viktor is surprised to find that most of his rink is there, crowded into his small apartment. Yakov, Lilia, Mila, even Georgi, standing slightly off to the side and struggling with something. “Sorry,” Georgi says after a moment. “The popper got jammed, so no confetti for now.”

 _“Give me that,”_ Mila groans, snatching it from him.

Yuuri is standing at the very front, biting his lip and twisting his hands together nervously.

“Happy birthday, Viktor,” he says in a small voice.

Oh god.

Viktor puts both hands over his mouth.

Oh god, he had _completely_ forgotten about his birthday. He's never really paid much attention to his birthdays to begin with. In the past, he hadn't really had anyone to celebrate it with, and this year, he'd just been _so busy_ with the Christmas preparations that it had just slipped his mind. Has Yuuri— been planning him a surprise birthday party this whole time? Suddenly, the strange behaviour that had started this whole Christmas craze clicks together. Yuuri must have been preparing for _this._ He had probably been frustrated by all the Christmas-themed items on sale.

Wait.

He freezes up.

Does that mean that Yuuri _doesn’t_ celebrate Christmas?

His thoughts scatter as Yuuri clears his throat. He realizes then that he’s just been standing silently in the doorway. “I'm sorry there's no cake,” Yuuri continues in an even smaller voice. “I tried to bake one but, well—”

He gestures at the dining table.

On it, there's what at first appears to be a particularly large lump of coal, next to a bowl of icing and an icing knife. After a few seconds, however, Viktor realizes that it must be the failed cake Yuuri had mentioned. In front of him, Yuuri exhales, looking down at his folded hands.

“I'm _really_ sorry,” he whispers. “I wanted to make this birthday perfect for you but— I guess we’ll have to make do with something a little less than perfect.”

And god, Viktor feels abruptly like he may _cry._

He raises the plastic bag he’s holding with a tremulous smile, blinking back the tears in his eyes.

“Luckily for the two of us,” he says hoarsely, “I gave up on baking, and bought us both a cake.”

The stress on Yuuri’s face eases, and he smiles.

Right then, there's a loud pop, so loud that the both of them jump. Gold streamers and shimmering flakes rain down over the both of them. Viktor blinks, shaking the confetti out of his hair, before in unison, the whole room turns to look at Mila. The girl in question is standing hunched at the back of the room, wearing what can only be described as an Oh Shit Look.

“Sorry,” she whispers, after a short moment. “Looks like it's working now.”

“Alright, alright,” Yuri grumbles, pushing past Viktor into the room. “Can we all stop _standing in the doorway?!_ This turkey is _heavy,_ you know! Where's the music? Can we get this party started?”

The tense silence releases into chatter and laughter as Georgi hurries around the couch to get to the music system. A moment later, a smooth, jazzy carol begins to play. Their guests slowly mill towards the kitchen to get the cutlery out and to carve the turkey, as Yurio herds the two of them insistently into the bedroom.

“We are giving you a moment,” Yurio announces loudly, and slams the bedroom door shut.

That leaves the two of them suddenly alone. Viktor steps forward immediately, stealing Yuuri’s hand and pressing it against his heart. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, chuckling “I somehow misread you being busy with all this as you wanting to celebrate Christmas and— I might have gone a little overboard trying to surprise you.”

“I, uh,” Yuuri begins sheepishly, “noticed when I came back to prepare. The giant dog angels are an unusual touch.”

Viktor groans. “Please don't remind me,” he pleads. “I was reading the Christmas Wikipedia page and I think I may have misinterpreted everything completely. Don't people usually put these up?”

Yuuri laughs. “Not like _this_ , they don't,” he says. “Why the barn setup? Wait, was this— supposed to be a Nativity set? Was this why you were trying to hide a mountain of boxes under the rug?”

“I didn't know where else to put them!” Viktor wails.

Yuuri begins to chuckle, shaking his head. They look at each other, and suddenly they’re both bending over, laughing, laughing so hard and so uncontrollably it hurts.

“Was I really supposed to pretend I couldn’t see them?” Yuuri shrieks.

“There was no space in the storeroom!” Viktor whines, clutching at his stomach, and Yuuri squats down, sobbing.

In that moment, laughing together like this, Viktor is struck with a love so fierce it aches in his throat. One day, he knows, he is going to marry this man. And of course, there are going to be days where they will break each other’s hearts. Oh, there are going to be days when it _storms_. But as long as they are together, cracks can always be mended, and there will always be duvet days, hot chocolate, and the warmth of their hearts beating, side by side.

Viktor squats down, throwing his arms around Yuuri. “I can’t believe you didn’t guess what I was up to,” he admits, still chortling.

Yuuri looks up at Viktor with tender eyes.

“Oh, Viktor,” he says and laughs again. “How was I supposed to guess that you would throw me a surprise party on _your_ birthday?”

Viktor cups Yuuri’s cheek, pressing their foreheads together. _God,_ does he love this man. Yuuri smiles gently at him, and Viktor finally leans in, pressing their lips together.

“Merry Christmas, Yuuri,” he murmurs.

Yuuri’s lips curl up gently against his.

“Happy Birthday, Viktor.”

  


As he’s washing the dishes later that night, he hears a burst of surprised laughter from the bedroom, and turns around.

“Is this a _candy cane dildo,_ Viktor?”

Through the doorway, he can see Yuuri standing by the bed, setting the dildo down and picking up something else from his pillow. Viktor’s whole body goes cold. He drops the plate he’s holding into the sink. “No, wait—“ he yelps, desperately flicking the suds off his hands, “Don’t—“

As he skids into the doorway, Yuuri’s mouth drops open, and his whole face goes red.

“Chris came up with the idea!” Viktor wails, running towards him with his arms outstretched. “Give the photos to me, Yuuri. I’m going to burn them.”

Yuuri begins to gather the prints up in his arms, clutching them protectively to his chest. “No!” he cries, backing away. “They’re _my_ Christmas presents! You can’t have them back!”

“Yuuri,” Viktor pleads, trying to corner Yuuri against the bed. “You don’t need them. I’m right here. You don’t need photos of me when you can see me anytime you like. You don’t even celebrate Christmas.”

Yuuri turns and runs out into the living room. Viktor curses and runs after him, but Yuuri has already put the couch between them, glaring. “Yuuri,” Viktor pleads, ”give them to me. Please, love.”

“No!” Yuuri shrieks.

Viktor comes around the couch, but Yuuri just scuttles over to the other side, stuffing the photos into his sweater.

“Send me the soft-copies,” he pleads. “Viktor, _please_. I need to print these in a bigger size for my collection.”

_“Collection?”_

Yuuri slaps both hands over his mouth.

A long period of silence ensues, but Viktor is already beginning to put the pieces together. God, that explains the rolls and rolls of mysterious laminated papers that Yuuri had brought with him when he had moved in, the ones he had been so jumpy and cagey about.

Wait a minute.

Chris knew and _never told him?_

Yuuri suddenly squats down with a whine, covering his face with his hands. “I have a collection of your photos,” he whimpers. “It keeps getting larger every year because everyone keeps _giving me more.”_

“So _that’s_ why Chris keeps asking for copies of my limited edition shoots!” Viktor yelps, scandalized. “He said they were for his mother!”

Yuuri lets out a long, pained groan and peeks out miserably at Viktor from between his fingers.

“Are you weirded out?” he asks.

Viktor blinks, still a little taken aback by all this. “Well, no,” he answers truthfully, and pauses, face warming. “I have a whole folder of photos I’ve taken of you while you were asleep, you know.”

The hands slip slowly from Yuuri’s face. He is wearing a considering look now. “So,” he continues hopefully, beginning to carefully pull the photographs out of his sweater, “Can I have the soft-copies of these then?”

His doe-brown eyes shimmer pitifully up at Viktor.

Viktor groans.

“Fine,” he says, defeatedly, “I’ll email them to you.”

Yuuri drops the photos on the coffee table with a wide grin, and rushes around the couch to tackle Viktor in a hug. Viktor’s socked feet slip right out from under him, and with a yelp, he soon finds himself flat on his back, breath whooshing out of him. Yuuri nuzzles into his neck fondly.

Viktor opens his eyes, and blinks.

There’s something tied to the lamp above them, and he can’t help but laugh as he realizes exactly what it is.

“Look up, Yuuri,” he whispers.

Yuuri raises himself into one elbow, and turns to look up at the lamp. His eyes widen. Then, with a chuckle, he turns to look down at Viktor, his whole face softening into a fond smile.

“Well,” he whispers, “We both know what that means, don’t we?”

Viktor slides his arms around Yuuri’s neck as Yuuri bends his head.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers.

Above them, a single sprig of mistletoe sways gently from the lamp.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Viktor's present to Yuuri is rebloggable/retweetable here ([Tumblr](https://asideoftrashplease.tumblr.com/post/181560222965/santa-cutie-filling-my-stocking-with-a)) ([Twitter](https://twitter.com/asideoftrashpl1/status/1079484768754982912)) ([Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/377208))
> 
> Please do feel free to follow me! I'm currently most active on Twitter.


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